


In Other Words

by Foxtrot (SolidState)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Rated M for possible future chapters, Robot/Human Relationships, selective mutism, shy boi Valentine, sort of mentions trauma not really detailed tho, will tag the titles if its mature
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 15:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17062055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolidState/pseuds/Foxtrot
Summary: She spoke plenty, if you just paid half an ounce of attention.She spoke in the tilt of her head and quirk of her lips, in the way her eyes crinkled when She smiled at him.Assorted stories of my selectively mute SS and her relationship with Nick Valentine. Chapters can be read together but aren’t necessarily connected or chronological. Sometimes she may speak, others she will not.





	1. Chapter 1

The Soul Survivor of Vault 111 did not speak.

 

Or rather, it wasn’t that She _couldn’t_ speak-it was that she chose not to. Nick Valentine the Man, the _human_ man, had seen it in the soldiers that returned home. They had come back quiet as the grave with far away looks in their eyes, as if the body they’d inhabited was vacated and the owner simply gone to some distant place.

 

These soldiers reminded him of the molted shells of cicadas, still sticking to the bark where the insect that inhabited the empty shell had once been. Shedding its exoskeleton and leaving a fragile hallow carapace behind. But She was not a shell left behind to crumble on the branch.

 

She spoke plenty, if you just paid half an ounce of attention.

 

She spoke in the tilt of her head and quirk of her lips, in the way her eyes crinkled when She smiled at him. She spoke in animated gestures when something particularly excited her and in the concerned crease of her brow.

 

She spoke in the giggles hidden behind her hands when Nick responded especially _sassy_ to Myrna’s pointed accusations or in full blown mirthful laughter that made her throw her head back and clutch her sides as she sat side-by-side with Piper at the noodle stand.

 

At night, when the rest of Diamond City was well past asleep and the only one left awake was Nick, she spoke in sobs- the kind that left her gasping for a breath and shaking beneath the covers. It had startled Nick the first time She had come sheepishly shuffling over to his desk at an ungodly hour of the night, eyes downcast and red from crying. It had nearly stopped his mechanical body completely when She had sat at his feet and rested Her cheek on his knee, sniffling woefully.

 

For a single moment Nick forgot the tick-tick-ticking of gears in his chest and the whirr of processors that kept him upright and moving. It had all narrowed down to the warmth of Her cheek seeping into the cracks of his decaying body and the soft silk of Her ginger hair spun around his finger (and when did he instinctively reach to stroke her hair in the first place?).

 

Sometimes She spoke with the steely cold of Her eyes, a look so pointed and sharp it left Nick unsettled, but the dusty green of Her eyes never went cold for him. Not even the first time She had seen the raw metal skeleton of his hand or the torn scar of his cheek that left wires and a hint of his jaw exposed. No, She looked at him as if seeing something through the plastic and metal and wires. Something deeper. Something he wasn’t even sure he had, but She seemed to know was there.

 

Nick found the intensity of her gaze wasn’t unpleasant at all.

 

It seemed everyone in town had a different name for the Sole Survivor, and She didn’t seemed interested in correcting any of them; Piper called Her ‘Blue’ for the obvious reasons (and Nat did as well), Ellie called Her ‘Hun’ in an affectionate tone that bordered on sisterly, the array of Diamond City guards called Her ‘The Survivor’ in private and ‘Kiddo’ to her face. Nick called Her many things, at first it was ‘Kid’ (though she was no child) then somewhere along the way the occasional ‘Doll’ slipped out which evolved into ‘Sweetheart’ and when he’d seen how it made Her blush he’d kept on using it.

 

One morning when She had awoken in the early gray light and shuffled zombie-like out of bed, the sight of her big yawn as She ruffled Her fingers through Her scruffy hair had made Nick chuckle deeply as he leaned back in his chair. 

“Good-morning Starshine, the Earth says Hello” he’d teased without ever really knowing where that thought had come from.

The bleary-eyed glare and purse of her lips had only made Nick laugh again, folding his hands across his stomach as he settled down more comfortably. Somehow it felt as if She’d always been there like this, bedraggled and groggy. As if She was simply filling a space that had always existed for Her to fill. 

 

The Sole Survivor of Vault 111 did not choose to talk, but she spoke all the same.


	2. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In other words, please be true
> 
> _In the fading gray light he could see the golden glow of his eyes reflected in Her own, it cast a faint light across the bridge of Her nose and up Her cheeks. A blush of gold._

It turned out that total nuclear annihilation wasn’t especially good for the environment or the weather. What had started as a mild sunny day became a cold rainstorm, so it hadn’t been all too surprising when She’d walked in the agency door absolutely soaked. Shivering and rubbing Her bare arms as She stood dripping water in the doorway looking about as pitiful as a drowned radrat. 

 

The bark of laughter that Nick had let slip earned him a decidedly indignant huff, She gave a good shake of Her head-sending water sprinkling in his general direction, She looked particularly triumphant.

 

Standing with a crooked grin still on his face Nick crossed the room to his dresser, rifling through the old clothes inside.

“Hold your horses, Sweetheart.”

He called over his shoulder before returning with a clean pair of khaki slacks and gray tee shirt with a faded Cappy logo emblazoned on the front. 

 

As She changed in the loft, She’d made a vaguely disgusted sound at the same time Nick heard the squelching of her wet clothes dropping carelessly in a pile on the floor.

 

“So, how’s the weather”

 

Her response was to toss Her dirty jeans over the stairs with a wet PLOP.

When She finally came back down Nick was seated back at his desk, ‘good’ hand propping up his chin while he sighed over an open file. He hadn’t heard Her return until She was at his side, reading over his shoulder. The tee shirt was easily three sizes too big and hung loosely off one freckled shoulder.  She’d messily tucked one side of it into his oversized slacks, having rolled the pant legs up several times so they wouldn’t drag. She was a short wisp of a thing, a full head smaller than Nick and soft in ways the Commonwealth rarely allowed anymore. Her hair, still damp, was curling messily at the ends like a shaggy lions mane. 

 

This close to Her, Nick could count the individual freckles splattered across her pale face. Thickly concentrated across her cheeks and nose, sparser everywhere else.

 

It was _highly_ distracting.

 

The soft tinny splash of rain drip-dropped with the tap of Nick Valentines skeletal metal finger on the desk. It was a good kind of rainstorm, the kind that leaves a pleasant chill in the air and washes away the grime. Distantly he could hear Nat, Sheng, and Nina laughing and hooting as they splashed through big puddles. Could hear the squeaking of their rain boots when they ran by the agency, pausing to splash in the neon puddle under the sign.

Any distraction from her many freckles was a welcome one  

Nick must’ve been silent too long because She turned to him with a curious look on Her face, humming in question. In the fading gray light he could see the golden glow of his eyes reflected in Her own, it cast a faint light across the bridge of Her nose and up Her cheeks. A blush of gold. 

Whatever distracting joke he’d come up with to hide his nervousness died on his tongue when She spoke, in a voice so soft and threadbare it threatened to disintegrate completely.

“Fireflies. Your eyes look like fireflies, Nick.”

Ellie once said ‘She looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky’ and he could see it now in that strange way She looked through him, to the little fluttering space between gears and wires that was supposed to be empty but felt so terribly full. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swiggity swooty she wants the booty


	3. It’s Easier This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In other words, I love you~
> 
>  
> 
> _She’d simply shrugged and turned his hand this way and that in a gentle way he wasn’t accustomed to. In a way that wasn’t strictly necessary._

The first time Nick Valentine had met Her, She’d been wearing that grimy bloodstained Raider helmet. It hadn’t occurred to him as odd at the time, it was a common sight in the Wasteland after all, until he realized She never took the damned ugly thing off. She even _slept_ sitting up with Her head hanging forward and the helmet digging uncomfortably into her at an odd angle. Nick had once caught her awkwardly lifting the bottom up enough to take a swig of warm Nuka-Cola (she’d made a face at the taste) but that brief glimpse was it for a long time.

-

It was surprising how easily Nick learned to read Her, how easy it was to speak without Her talking. The tight bristle of Her shoulders when he’d referred to himself as ‘scrap parts’ in a way that was only half joking, or the way her body swayed to music playing from the Pip-Boy at Her wrist. The first time She’d heard someone insult Nick had ended with him having to drag her away from a confrontation when he’d seen the way Her fists clenched and the anger rolling off Her practically _smoldered_. Her protectiveness left an odd, but not unwelcome, feeling in Nicks chest.

-

It was a good while later, sitting around a campfire late at night, that She’d finally answered his unspoken question.

 

“It’s easier” her voice sounded muffled and tinny through the gas mask “It’s easier to kill somebody if they can’t look you in the eye”

 

There was a lot Nick had to say to that but he just grunted in understanding and nodded, slipping the cigarette filter between his lips. She was quiet the rest of the night and for days after.

-

The screws in his hand where practically falling out as Nick huffed in frustration, twisting the screwdriver around to no avail. The screws were tiny, delicate, not suited for his large hand to fiddle with. When She suddenly stepped up to him, holding her hand out for the screwdriver, he’d damn near jumped out of his skin (what was left of it anyway).

 

“Here” She stuck Her hand out pointedly and Nick passed the screwdriver over reluctantly, too surprised by the offer to deny Her.

 

“Aw hell Kid you don’t have to...”

 

Nick’s shame began creeping up his spine when She reached for his skeletal hand, but She’d simply shrugged and turned his hand this way and that in a gentle way he wasn’t accustomed to. In a way that wasn’t strictly necessary.

 

When She brought his hand closer to Her face She made an annoyed sort of soundbefore using her other hand, screwdriver still gripped, to pull the helmet up from the bottom and over her head then brought Nicks hand back up to her face for better inspection. Squinting a little as She carefully bent and straightened his fingers.

Nick wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but what he got certainly wasn’t it.

She looked younger than he’d imagined, with a sort of baby-fat roundness to Her face, and there was a faint tan line where the helmet began around her neck. Her face was a mess of freckles beneath the pink flush of her skin (golly that helmet seemed like a sauna) and her ginger hair had been pulled into a short little ponytail with bangs that where plastered to her forehead.

 

When She turned Her eyes up to meet his Nick could see they where a rich gray-green, startlingly bright beneath Her shaggy hair. A distant foggy memory, from a life he’d never lived, conjured up the face of the Scottish officer in the office beside Nick Valentines. A lad named Sutherland who’d had the same sort of freckled face and a hearty accent. Nick supposed that Sutherland had died much the same as the human Nick must have. Wondered if they’d been at work chatting over stale break room coffee when the sirens went off...

He realized She’d been staring expectantly at him, head tilted to the side, then patiently repeated Her question.

“Tight enough?”

Nick flexed his fingers, feeling the firmness in his joints, then nodded.

“Yeah I’d say so. Guess that’s how they put Nick back together again.”

He’d laughed in that self deprecating way that made Her frown and hold his hand a little tighter, made Her thumb rub against the back of his wrist.

-

It wasn’t long after coming home to Diamond City that She’d stopped wearing the helmet all together. That he’d finally offered Her a spot with him permanently, offered his _home_. He’d half expected Her to hightail it out the door, but She’d smiled bashfully and nodded a ‘yes’.

That first night Nick watched Her sprawled out on his bed, limbs all akimbo, sleeping as comfortably as he’d ever seen Her sleep. It had felt strangely...intimate. Intimate in a way that hadn’t been there while hauled up in a Slocum Joes with a campfire between them. 

The next morning when She’d come shuffling up to his desk, comforter wrapped tightly around Her like a fluffy cocoon and her wild mane of hair sticking out from underneath, Nick knew he had it bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a kid I’d seen some kind of documentary where a soldier mentioned that wearing a mask/helmet/ect made it easier to distance himself from the killing and handle that sort of stuff. 
> 
> Tbh I have no idea why I was watching it in the first place I was like 9???? I was an odd kid don’t judge me.
> 
> Anyway here’s a lil doodle of what she looks like that I scribbled out at 3am: http://i.imgur.com/0Vptmq3.jpg


	4. Hey, Valentine*MATURE*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *mature content warning for robot bangin*
> 
> You are all I long for, all I worship and adore~
> 
>  
> 
> _There where many things Nick could do for Her, many things Nick desperately wanted to do for Her all at once, but the swell of embarrassment at what it was he couldn’t made his hand still_

She sung so sweetly for him.

 

Low and pretty as the cold metal of his fingers rested on the curve of Her waist, just barely teasing beneath the hem of Her sleep shirt and sending goosebumps tickling up Her skin. The breathy way She shuddered and sucked in a gasp when his hand brushed the side of Her breast.

 

She reached up and loosened the knot of his tie, not quite removing it and Nick filed that little tidbit away for later. Catching Her hand at his chest, he brushed Her hair back to lightly kiss Her forehead. She hummed contentedly then caught his lips with her own.

 

It would have been simply _rude_ to ignore such a sweet request.

 

There where many things Nick could do for Her, many things Nick desperately wanted to do for Her all at once, but the swell of embarrassment at what it was he _couldn’t_ made his hand still on the soft curve of her skin. Doubt and shame slipped and wriggled into the cracks of his body, clawing and scratching painfully into all those tiny broken spaces. She was beautiful and whole, bending softly to the sharp parts of him, and Nick felt sheer terror at the thought he could not be whole for her too.

 

“Hey, _Valentine_...”

She gently gave his tie a playful tug.But Nicks doubt remained as he leaned down to Her, resting his forehead to hers. So close he could feel the rush of blood beneath her fair skin  

 

“Sweetheart...I...I _can’t_ exactly...” and good God this was _embarrassing_ to explain, so embarrassing to admit and wouldn’t have been any easier if She hadn’t been sprawled beneath him so invitingly  

 

But She just slipped her fingers up his shirt, pulling buttons free until she could feel the expanse of his chest, so very different feeling than her own skin but not at all unpleasant. When Nick sighed softly at Her touch, eyes fluttering shut, but the concerned crease on his brow did not relax She’d placed a ticklish kiss at his neck that made Nick wiggle and laugh deeply. Made that painful tense bow of his shoulders loosen and when She grinned playfully up at him all thoughts of inadequacy fled his mind.

 

“You’re playing dirty” Nick warned but could tell she wasn’t sorry in the least  

 

Soon enough Nick found many other ways to make Her sing-many delightful and intriguing ways, all of which included keeping his tie _on_. Intriguing indeed. When her warm breath ghosted against his cheek, her fingers clutching desperately for his shoulders and her whimpers grew ragged and high Nick was sure he’d never felt so painfully _alive_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Robot fucking
> 
> #NoDickNick4Life


	5. Happy Holidays from the Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Sea Glass (noun):  
>  originates as pieces of glass from broken bottles, broken tableware, or even shipwrecks, which are rolled and tumbled in the ocean for years until all of their edges are rounded off, and the slickness of the glass has been worn to a frosted appearance._

Time lost a great deal of meaning after you’ve been cryogenically frozen for 200 years. No one would argue about that. So it wasn’t particularly surprising that the holidays had snuck up and practically hit Her square in the face. To be fair there hadn’t been much buildup until one day Diamond City was covered in red and green strings of lights and someone’d put a sad looking plastic tree on their roof. The tree was even decorated. 

Things where different of course, not necessarily _bad_ different but different enough to make Her feel a little sad. Of all the things to miss in the apocalypse She’d chosen those old clay animation Christmas movies, like the one with Rudolf and the isle of misfit toys. Water that wasn’t horribly irradiated was second on Her list.

Of the many differences the Commonwealths version of Christmas had ended up with, ease of gift buying was most certainly one. Particularly if the man you where buying for went to all the same places and made a living out of being exceptionally intuitive. Finding a decent gift in the first place was hard enough, keeping it secret was a whole different animal.

Out of everyone Nick was the hardest, because _of_ _course_ he was. Whenever a gift was offered he simply humbly refused, like She’d seen when an old client had tried to give Nick a token gift. She suspected it was only part being humble and a whole lot more of believing he didn’t deserve such niceties. A thought She tried not to dwell too long on.

He was a practical man in most things and extravagance would just make him uncomfortable, though Her natural inclination was to get Nick the biggest shiniest....something! Lucky for Nick the Commonwealth was severely lacking in big shiny somethings and She had a budget to adhere to (She’d only slightly gone over...just slightly).

It took Her a long time and even more caps to settle on the right thing. Practical enough so he wouldn’t get embarrassed, but still a good enough gift that _She_ wouldn’t be embarrassed either.

She’d given Ellie a new scarf, similar in color to the pink one she normally wore but made of shimmery silk and in a softer shade of rosy pink. Ellie had immediately put it on, rubbing the soft silk between her fingers with a bashful smile.

For Piper, She’d had Sturges repair a camera that She’d polished and shined until it looked damn near new and replaced the old crumbling strap with one made of strong leather. Piper had laughed happily and pulled Her in for a hug, promptly taking a photo of them all hunched over noodle bowls at Pipers dining table.

Nat was a bit more difficult. Toys in the apocalypse largely consisted of either stuffed animals or board games and Nat was in that odd stage of not yet being a teenager but too old for threadbare Mr.Jangles plush toys. Once again Sturges saved the day, together they’d carefully removed the radio components of a busted up desk radio and reworked them into a bright shiny red handheld walkie-talkie effectively making the Commonwealths first handheld radio fit for any 11 year old. Nat had marveled at it and gave a thrilled squeel at discovering it even picked up Magnolias program all the way from Goodneighbor. She’d boasted about eagerly showing Sheng the next day.

True to form Nick had declined any suggestions of gifts coming his way, holding his hands up in a placating way. At the very least he allowed Piper to foot the bill for his dinner, though with much assurance he didn’t need it and Piper shouldn’t waste her caps on him.

The short walk back to the agency was done in companionable silence, though it was a struggle not let Her eagerness show. By the time Nick had hung his tattered fedora on the coat hook She’d come up behind him with a neatly wrapped package with an oversized bow stuck in the middle. 

“Oh sweetheart you didn’t have to put yourself out on my account..” Nick began but stopped at that eager look on Her face and the way she bounced on her toes. Instead he laughed in that soft and deep rumble and sat at his desk. She looked practically ready to rip the wrapping paper off for him if Nick didn’t _hurry_ _up_. 

Inside and carefully folded was his trench coat, or rather it was his trench coat restored to damn near new. The hem was still rough at the edges but mismatched patches had been filled to match the fabric and he couldn’t tell where they’d been anymore. It was a marvel of modern science that She’d scrubbed it as clean as She did, until it was a color Nick had forgotten it was suppose to be...before it had been barfed on by mirelurks. 

“Well I’ll be damned” he said after sputtering for a moment.

She motioned for nick to try it on with a twirl of Her finger and who was he to deny Her.

Slipping it on Nick realized the lining inside had even been completely replaced and the pockets repaired, the thought of just how much this must’ve cost nagged in the back of his mind...The stern pointed look She gave him left no room for discussion however.

Before She could implode from sheer excitement, Nick slid a little wrapped box out of the desk drawer. It was Her turn to look puzzled, cocking Her head in question before Nick held the box out to Her a great deal less sure of himself than he was accustomed to being.

Could a synth _fear_ _barf_? He felt like they just might find out if his nerves had a say in things.

As She unwrapped the box Nick began to fidget-adjusting his tie repeatedly and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. When She pulled the chain out from the padded box he gracelessly blurted out: “Sea g-glass it..ah..”

She held the round pendant in her cupped hands, shifting it this way that as it caught the light. Nick was now gesturing a little frantically as he spoke as if Her liking it entirely hinged on his explication. 

“Sea..sea glass is very old. It’s tumbled around by the waves...dragged through the sand and silt until the water smooths away the edges and compresses it into something...strong” he paused for a moment, gauging the look in her eyes. “When it washes up on shore...its been knocked around by time and the sea for decades...turned into something _strong_ ,resilient...beautiful.”

The stone of sea glass had become a perfect 2inch sphere of foggy rich olive green, clear enough to see the light shining through the center and set into a brass band that wrapped around its center and was attached to the long brass chain in such a way that it spun as She rolled it between Her fingers. It felt pleasantly weighty around her neck, hanging low down her chest.

The waves could hold onto bits of sea glass for 30 years or more, 100 years even. Maybe longer. She wondered if this little fragile shard knew where it would end up while being thrown about by the sea.

When it looked like She might cry Nick immediately regretted opening his big mouth, until She stepped around the desk catching him in a tight hug, her forehead pressed against his chest. Nick Valentine wasn’t a human man, wasn’t a ‘man’ at all to a lotta folks, but somehow She made him feel like one.

Nick knew they’d been dancing around...something. Had denied it for Her own good and his, better to never let that hope linger than find out She’d just been polite or playing. Better to keep Her as a friend than scare Her away.

It was a curious thing how quickly Nick had fallen in love with Her, seeing as it wasn’t even physically possible. Or it _shouldn’t_ have been, but he found She made a great deal many impossible things happen these days. It didn’t make a lick of sense that She’d somehow decided Nick was worth a second look in the first place, that She’d thrown in with him readily and stayed even when opportunity presented itself elsewhere.

Fantasizing about a relationship, that She was genuinely interested despite the overwhelming odds, was all well and good. Laying his cards on the table with the very real possibility he’d played the wrong hand was another thing entirely.

When She pulled back it was with an impish glint in Her eyes and Nick knew he was in _trouble_ , he was proven right when She produced the sprig of squished mistletoe She’d hidden in his coat pocket. It took a bare second of understanding before She leaned in and kissed the corner of his lips.

It was so very easy to turn his head and instead catch her kiss with his own, Nick was rewarded with Her standing on tip-toe to reach Her arms around his shoulders and the feel of her grin against his kiss. Later, Nick would belatedly realize he’d hadthe right cards the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The description of the necklace is based on the overall design of this:  
> https://chronotimepieces.com/shop/rare-pieces/ladies-titus-ball-gold-plated-watch-from-the-60s-14k-gold-necklace/
> 
> I have the same watch necklace, though older and brassy, that I got as a gift and wear all the time. It’s really special to me so I made Hers the same design with sea glass instead of a watch :3
> 
> Happy holidays!(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	6. Work Related Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When Nick returned it was with a med kit and thin forceps, She winced at the sight of those but the room seemed to sway and bob like a boat on the sea and She had no more thoughts to spare._

It was supposed to be simple. An easy case of bringing a runaway 10 year old back home. The boys estranged father wasn’t supposed to be there with a gun.

 

When She finally tracked Alex down to the abandoned cabin She’d found not a runaway but rather a kidnapping. His father had been planning to run away with Alex to the Mojave, far from any chance of his mother finding them. The man was unwilling to give Alex up without a fight, had actually turned the pistol on his own son when he realized She wasn’t backing down. That he wasn’t going to win.

 

“If I can’t have him, she can’t have him”

 

In that split second of Do or Die She’d grabbed the barrel of the gun and forced it away from Alex, the shot burying deep into Her shoulder instead.

 

But Alex was home now and a man was dead in the woods.

 

When Nick heard Her come in he hadn’t expected what he got. She slumped against the door, breathing heavy and clutching Her shoulder as blood oozed between Her pale fingers.

 

“Jesus Christ”

 

The chair tipped over in Nicks haste as he caught Her, She gasped painfully and curled in on Herself as Nick lead Her to sit on the bed. When Nick returned it was with a med kit and thin forceps, She winced at the sight of those but the room seemed to sway and bob like a boat on the sea and She had no more thoughts to spare.

 

Nick helped Her carefully peel Her jacket off, then her greying tank top until she was left in a dingy sports bra. She had to lift her arm up and out the right strap so he could access the bullet, had howled and sobbed at the movement until the medication started to blur the edges of the pain and made Her feel fuzzy-headed.

 

Nick laid Her down flat on his bed then started to grasp at the lodged bullet with long forceps, his free hand holding Her bare shoulder steady. The rush of pain hit hard and She clawed at the front of his shirt with Her left hand, sobbing and gasping.

 

Nick was speaking softly to Her but the words where lost in the fog of her brain. The rough cadence of his voice felt so very good though, She could have listened to him read the entire dictionary and be satisfied. At some point the strangest feeling of tugging began and She was dimly aware it was Nick pulling the bullet free, She was even less aware of the prick of a stimpack in her arm before exhaustion pulled Her into sleep.

 

When She finally woke, it felt like She imagined being mowed down by a Deathclaw must feel like. At some point Nick must have helped Her change because She now wore a loose sleep shirt and sweatpants, something about the thought Nick was so close felt warm and reassuring.

 

She found Nick at his desk, head in his hands as he hunched over the mess of papers laid out in front of him. Suddenly he looked so terribly old and weatherworn in a way that left a sinking ache in Her stomach.

 

“Hey, Valentine”

 

Something in his body changed, uncurled from it’s tight coil and whatever age She’d seen before dissipated until She wasn’t sure it had ever really been there. But the tight hug he pulled Her into edged on the edge of desperation, like maybe Nick was the only thing keeping Her from shattering to motes of dust.

 

Sometimes, She couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She deserves a raise.

**Author's Note:**

> ⊂◉‿◉つ Thanks for giving these fics a chance, it’s a lot of little moments and short stories I’ve had going on for a while but they’re not beta’d so it’s rough around the edges. 
> 
> I have absolutely crippling social anxiety and at times will go non-verbal when having a panic attack so I really connected with the idea of a SS who doesn’t speak often and only when she’s comfortable with someone. Usually Nicky. 
> 
> She does have a name that will come up eventually, probably, as will tid bits of her backstory. But to be clear she isn’t the default protagonist ‘Nora’. She’s their daughter and is a young adult at the time this takes place, she was in her early years of college when the bombs dropped. 
> 
> Just wanted to make sure there wasn’t confusion when this info pops up :K


End file.
